Prank Lord Potter
by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: Harry was dumb enough to swear a magical oath to replace Voldemort as Dark Lord. Thus, Veridans Lucis, Dark Lord of Chaos, is born. WIP Part 2 up!
1. Part One

Title: Prank Lord Potter

**Title: Prank Lord Potter**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**Pairings: None at present.**

**Story Summary:** **When they weren't trying to kill each other, Harry and Voldemort were almost friends. So it was that Harry swore an oath that if anything ever happened to Voldemort, Harry would take his place. Thus Veridans Lucis, Dark Lord of Chaos, was born.**

**Setting: AU. Seventh year and beyond. Vaguely follows canon for books 1-4. **

**Author notes: **

_edit_

_Edited to make more sense._

_end edit_

_Inspired by _Coven of the Rose _and similar fics. Some influence from _Silverwolf7007_'s fics in there._

--

**PRANK LORD POTTER**

**A ****TALE TOLD IN THREE PARTS**

**PART ONE**

**--**

The problem had really begun several months earlier during one of Harry and Voldemort's periodic discussions.

-

Most people believed that the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord were incontrovertible enemies, something that both of them encouraged. In reality Harry and Voldemort were only enemies through circumstance; when they weren't attempting to off the other, they actually got along quite well. After all, the two of them had quite a bit in common, and although he rarely allowed it to surface Harry did, in fact, have a rather strong Slytherin side.

-

On this particular occasion Harry and Voldemort (both heavily cloaked) met in a little wizarding café in London to talk about the war, Dumbledore's peculiarities, and the general incompetence of minions these days.

"I mean, the number of times Lucius Malfoy has managed to allow me to escape is frankly embarrassing," Harry noted, peering suspiciously into his tea. "You didn't poison this again, did you? It tastes funny."

"It was just the one time," Voldemort replied, craning his neck to also peer into Harry's cup, "and you spotted it anyway. I know, for my right-hand man, Lucius is an abject failure. The sad thing is that he's the best I've got. Are you sure you don't want to join me? Just think, you'd never have to tolerate Dumbledore's barminess ever again."

"Tempting, but no," Harry sighed. He decided not to risk the tea; Tom was _sneaky_. "I'm afraid that you and I have – what's it called? – 'irreconcilable differences of opinion.'"

Voldemort sighed too.

"Pity. Ah well. How is your Occlumency training going?"

Harry scowled.

"Dismally. Snape's still a bastard. I'm sure he's on your side, no matter what Dumbledore says."

"You know, if you joined me, I could always teach you Occlumency."

"Tom, if I joined you I wouldn't _need_ Occlumency training."

"So you're not going to reconsider?"

"No." Harry was beginning to get annoyed.

"I could always kill those relatives of yours," Voldemort suggested slyly. There was a slightly longer pause than usual.

"No," Harry tried to convince himself, "even killing the Dursley's wouldn't be a big enough bribe."

"Severus, then?"

"Tom, I'm leaving before I turn evil, I think it's contagious."

"Fine, fine. Just promise me one thing: if I ever die, promise you'll become a Dark Lord in my stead."

"_What?_ Give that here, I'm sure someone's laced it with Firewhisky or something."

"You leave my tea alone, I like it that way! No, I'm serious. You've got a lot of potential that's being wasted, Harry, and if I go I want to be sure there's someone at least competent to replace me. Come on. What's there to lose?"

Eventually Harry had given in and sworn, leaving Tom muttering triumphantly about how Harry was wasted on the Light Side. Unfortunately, an incident with Snape not too long afterwards drove the entire thing out of his mind.

"_POTTER! What were you doing outside the grounds?"_

"_Oh, bugger."_

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

But now, with Voldemort dead, Harry was left in the uncomfortable position of having sworn a magical oath to replace his nemesis. In other words, _'Houston, we have a problem.'_ In the end Harry found himself entering the potions lab in search of the potions master, desperate for advice.

"I've gone insane," he muttered as he walked through the door.

"_Potter!_" Snape spotted him immediately. "Out!"

"But I need your advice," Harry tried to explain. Snape didn't miss a beat.

"Change your name and move to Siberia. Now OUT!"

Harry rolled his eyes and with a wave of his hand wandlessly locked the door, something few besides Tom had ever known he could do. Clearly this was going to be as difficult as he had thought it would be.

"I need to talk to you."

Snape glared at him, put on alert by the wandless magic, waiting for him to continue. Harry coughed. This was going to be embarrassing.

"Uh, well, the thing is," he began, "a while back I kind of swore a magical oath." He scratched the back of his neck, wondering what to say next.

"Then fulfil it," Snape sneered. "If that is all –"

Harry saw that he was going to have to just spit it out.

"I swore to Voldemort that I'd be a Dark Lord."

There was a long silence. Then Snape spoke very, very softly, in a way that made Harry's hand twitch towards his wand.

"What did you just say, Potter?"

Good. He finally had the man's attention. Unconsciously he dropped his Gryffindor mannerisms, knowing that the time for subterfuge was past, and allowing his inner Slytherin to show through.

"Voldemort and I didn't really hate each other, Professor," Harry said carefully. Snape's cold, inscrutable black eyes bored into him. "We got on quite well, actually. He was always trying to recruit me, and when we weren't trying to kill each other we used to meet in cafes and things and talk."

Snape's expression grew ever-so-slightly pained at the revelation that his boss and the sole hope of the wizarding world had been regularly getting together like old friends. Harry smothered a smirk.

"Anyway, this one time a few months ago – I'm sure he laced my tea with something, I know it tasted funny at the time – a few months ago he talked me into promising that if anything happened to him I'd become a Dark Lord to fill the void."

-

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And you swore a magical oath to this effect?"

"Yes."

Snape massaged his temples. Harry felt vaguely apologetic, and thought he'd suggest something that used to help Voldemort when he made that particular gesture.

""If it helps, you can shoot some curses at me, although I'll probably block most of them. I've gotten lots of practice."

Snape dropped his hands from his head and glared.

"Don't tempt me," he growled. He pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Damn you, Potter," he muttered. He moved behind his desk and sat at it, pinning Harry with angry cold eyes. "Sit."

Harry obediently dragged forward the end of one of the benches and sat on it, looking at Snape expectantly.

The man looked at him grimly, then began to speak.

"You have three options, Potter. One, you can ignore your oath, in which case you will slowly lose your magic until you're little more than a squib. Two, you can fulfil your oath in the manner that the Dark Lord doubtless expected, by taking his place killing mudbloods, harassing the populace and torturing others on a whim." He paused, while Harry thought about both of these options. He didn't particularly like either of them.

Just as Harry was beginning to consider a career as the Dark Lord Votumortis, Snape spoke again.

"Three, you could out-Slytherin the oath."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Go on."

Snape steepled his fingers together.

"The Dark Lord did not specify how long you had to be a Dark Lord, how often you had to be a Dark Lord, or most importantly, in what manner you had to be a Dark Lord. You could be a Dark Lord championing the destruction of mudbloods or the destruction of Cornelius Fudge for all the oath would care, although if you chose the latter you would probably qualify as a hero rather than a bringer of terror. The point is, the oath leaves the manner in which you fulfil it entirely up to you."

Harry sat there thinking, an evil, feral grin slowly spreading over his face.

"Thanks, sir. That really helps."

"Then get out of my classroom!"

Harry left in a hurry.

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

A year after the defeat of Voldemort, Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed as he flooed through to the minister's office, wondering what in Merlin's name could have happened. As it was the anniversary of Voldemort's death the Aurors were on high alert in case of Death Eater activity, but so far nothing had happened. As he stepped out of the fireplace Kinglsey glanced over towards Fudge's desk. And froze, transfixed.

After a moment he spoke, still staring.

"What the hell happened here?"

One of the junior Aurors hurried forward to explain.

"His secretary found him like this earlier this morning. Says he hasn't seen anyone this morning as far as she knows; he didn't have any appointments until after lunch, and no one went past her desk. We have yet to free the Minister to the point where he can speak, sir."

Kingsley just continued to stare in wonder, and some admiration.

Cornelius Fudge had been wrapped from head to toe in muggle duct tape, only his nose and glaring eyes left uncovered. To add to the indignity, he had been suspended from the ceiling upside down. The Aurors were currently removing layers of tape and trying to get him down; both the tape and the rope holding him seemed to have been spelled, making things rather difficult.

"At present we have no idea who was behind the assault, although we found this on the Minister's desk."

The Auror passed Kingsley a small piece of thick, creamy paper, which he immediately held up to his face for a closer look. It appeared to be a calling card, 2 inches x 3.5 inches, with scalloped edges. Written in emerald green was the name_ Veridans Lucis_; underneath, in italics and slightly smaller letters, Kingsley read, _Dark Lord of Chaos._ He sighed and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. Still, he thought, surveying the fuming, silent minister with a reluctant smile, at least the setup was amusing.

-

The next day the new Dark Lord struck again, this time at Hogwarts. The school was assembled in the Great Hall, beginning on breakfast when there was a flash of light and a puff of green smoke from the teacher's table. It cleared a little to reveal a glowering Severus Snape, clad in a perfect replica of Batman's outfit.

Most of the muggleborn students collapsed in hysterical laughter, while even the purebloods giggled at the sight of their dour professor in the ridiculous costume. There was another flash of light and smoke, and above the man's head several sparking green words appeared.

'KILROY WAS HERE – MINION OF THE DARK LORD VERIDANS LUCIS.'

Underneath was a small, revolving symbol of a snake twisted into the shape of a figure eight, and biting its own tail.

Over at the Gryffindor table Harry was laughing hysterically. Across the hall Snape met his eyes, clearly promising retribution. Harry raised an eyebrow, disclaiming responsibility. Snape just sneered before turning towards a twinkling Dumbledore for help. Harry looked across towards the Ravenclaw table with a smile, raising his goblet in salute. Luna simply smiled serenely.

-

Two days after the first attack, Veridans Lucis grew bold enough to attack the Ministry itself. It was a normal day in the Auror department until ten thirty, when several green-cloaked figures led by one in green and gold burst into the room screaming, "Charge!"

The Aurors quickly sprang into action, but taken by surprise, were quickly overcome by a massed weaponry of what appeared to be Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products. Fifteen minutes later the room was filled with immobilised, costumed, cursed (and in one case) even avian Aurors while six satisfied cloaked figures quickly portkeyed out. The resultant mess took hours to sort out, and the Auror's reputation took a hit. Poor Auror Jones was never quite the same; whenever he became nervous he'd let out a loud 'quack!" forever afterwards.

-

By the fourth day news of Veridans Lucis and his minions were front-page news, and Wizarding Britain waited for them to attack next with a curious combination of apprehension and anticipation. This time it was the public themselves that were affected; a large blue square covered the cobbles of Diagon Alley, giving off a faint iridescent sheen. The wizarding race not being the brightest of folk, several people were foolish enough to step on it; they promptly turned bright blue and the message 'CLAP YOUR HANDS AND JUMP FOR JOY, I WAS HERE BEFORE KILROY!' blossomed twelve feet above the alley, the tell-tale snake symbol rotating lazily underneath.

-

On day five Undersecretary Umbridge was greeted by the sight of several hundred tiny, florescent-green toads hopping around her office. Every few seconds one would light up like a Christmas tree and pause to belch flames in the direction of the nearest object. Umbridge's scream of outrage was heard over several floors. As usual, the prank was largely resistant to magic and therefore extremely difficult to remove. Once again, Veridans Lucis's card sat on the desk; unfortunately it turned out to be an unauthorised portkey, which dropped one of the Aurors in the Atrium fountain with a loud splash.

-

It was at this point that the Aurors began laying bets on how the Dark Lord would strike next.

-

On the sixth day Albus Dumbledore was participating in a session of the Wizengamot when there was a flash of light and green smoke, leaving the Supreme Mugwump in rather startling attire. He was suddenly dressed in an enormous pink balldress, _a la_ Hogwart's Fat Lady, and a pair of oversized fake glasses complete with enormous fake nose and fake moustache. The transformation lasted several hours, prompting Rita Skeeter to write an article entitled _Albus Dumbledore: Senile at Last?_ in the _Daily Prophet._ Unfortunately, on the morning that it was published Rita was nowhere to be found; eventually she turned up handcuffed to a filing cabinet in the Animagus Registry Office, san wand and unconscious, a photograph of a beetle taped to her forehead and the familiar snake symbol floating above.

-

Surprisingly, nothing happened on day eight, nor the day after. Eventually the authorities decided that Veridans Lucis had simply gotten bored of the whole thing.

**--**

**Author Notes:**

**snickers A combination of prank fics and a couple of fics by nonjon and Silverwolf7007 inspired this one. Two more parts to come, hopefully longer than this one. Cheers.**


	2. Part Two

Title: Prank Lord Potter

**Title: Prank Lord Potter**

**Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWaytoTravel**

**Pairings: None at present.**

**Story Summary:** **When they weren't trying to kill each other, Harry and Voldemort were almost friends. So it was that Harry swore an oath that if anything ever happened to Voldemort, Harry would take his place. Thus Veridans Lucis, Dark Lord of Chaos, was born.**

**Setting: AU. Seventh year and beyond. Vaguely follows canon for books 1-4. **

**Author notes: **

_This chapter goes into a lot more depth__, particularly into the wider-ranging effects of Harry's pranks. I like it much better than the first one. Contains a nod to Terry Pratchett, too._

--

**PRANK LORD POTTER**

**A TALE TOLD IN THREE PARTS**

**PART TWO**

**--**

Meanwhile, Harry Potter quietly studied for his N.E.W.T.s and passed, along the way achieving the highest Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. in history. Just before the new school year began he was hired as the new Defence professor, and come September first began teaching with gusto, becoming quite possibly the most popular person ever to fill the position. Gifted in showing students the knack to certain spells and in explaining even the most complicated ideas clearly, he was approved by the School Board and parents alike.

Shortly before the second anniversary of Voldemort's death, Professor Potter was called to the headmaster's office.

"Hello, Albus," Harry greeted him cheerfully. Harry had grown into a talented and confident young man, and had formed a friendship with the old man.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore replied, just as cheerfully. "Lemon drop? Tea?"

Harry refused the lemon drop as always, but on this occasion accepted the offer of tea. When Albus wasn't looking, he pointed his wand at it and stealthily laced it with firewhisky.

"I asked you to come by, Harry," Dumbledore began, pretending that he didn't know _exactly_ what Harry was drinking, "to ask if you remembered a series of incidents that occurred last year involving a self-proclaimed Dark Lord named Veridans Lucis." His eyes twinkled.

"You worked it out," Harry observed, not particularly disturbed by this. "Fred owes me a bottle of Ogden's Finest."

"I am rather familiar with Latin," Dumbledore agreed. Harry laughed.

"That was Moony's idea," he explained, grinning. "When I was trying to come up with a Dark Lord name, Fred and George asked, why not put a hint of my identity in there, disguised somehow? And you know what Moony's like; he's almost as bad as Hermione. He insisted on turning it into Latin right away. Well, more or less. He's not too good with grammar or syntax."

"I see," Dumbledore smiled. "I was wondering, my dear boy, if Veridans Lucis will be returning this year."

Harry's eyes simply twinkled mirthfully over the rim of his teacup.

"Ah. May I ask, then, what prompted you to commemorate Voldemort's demise in such a peculiar fashion?"

Harry shrugged.

"Oh, you know," he said vaguely, "delusions of grandeur and all that. Seemed as good a way as any to celebrate his death. Keeps everyone on their toes."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "I suppose that it had very little to do with the illicit friendship the two of you had."

Had Harry not been drinking, he would have responded with a puzzled stare; as it was, he was caught in the act of swallowing a mouthful of tea, and when he finished coughing and spluttering he looked up to see a pair of grave blue eyes staring at him without a trace of warmth.

Very deliberately Harry put down his teacup and adjusted his collar before speaking. He carefully didn't make any sudden moves.

"I see that your habit of omniscience has not deserted you," he observed. "So why are you only talking to me about this now?" The green eyes were unusually sharp and perceptive; he looked uncannily like the very person they were speaking about, as he had been some fifty-something years earlier.

At this inopportune moment not only Snape, but McGonagall entered the office, to find Harry and the headmaster eyeing each other like a pair of territorial cobras.

"Severus, Minerva, take a seat," Albus greeted them brightly, eyes never leaving Harry's. "Because, Harry, one of those things that most distinguishes you is your genuine care for others. I knew that, whatever you were doing, you would do your best to avoid bringing harm to anyone, and that my interference could cause things to go horribly wrong. So I trusted that you would continue as you were, without incident, and as events proved my faith in you was not misplaced. But I think that I would like to know, Harry, exactly what your relationship with Voldemort was, and why you insist on becoming a Dark Lord for a week per year."

"Merciful heavens!" gasped McGonagall. Harry merely sat very still, and watched them like a snake about to strike. Finally, every muscle visibly relaxed and Harry leaned back with a sigh, eyes closing.

"I'm not really a Gryffindor," Harry said softly, "And I never really was. Was I, Sorting Hat?"

"I said it then and I'll say it now," the Hat declared, startling everyone but Harry, "You would have done well in Slytherin."

"Thank you." Harry sighed again. "I grew up abused and unloved, Albus, Minerva, Snape. That sort of life would turn most people into a Slytherin. I was just trying to survive, and it was hard, but in the end it was okay. One day I'd grow up and live a life that was somewhat better, nothing special, but quiet and small and happy. Then, when I was eleven, I was thrust into a bizarre new world where expectations of every kind were placed upon me." Harry opened his eyes, and the hardness was gone, replaced with a weariness and disillusionment that looked odd in his young face. "I was a hero, someone who had to do all the right things and hold the right views, the Saviour, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Chosen One. To exist in this world and deal with its pressures I had to be someone completely different – someone that Voldemort understood, because that person was a great deal like he had been."

Harry leaned forward and spread his hands.

"We understood each other, and when he wasn't trying to kill me, or amuse himself by spiking my tea with alcoholic beverages in order to get me drunk, he was amusing and, believe it or not, one of my best friends." He smiled sadly.

McGonagall was looking greatly perturbed; Albus however was watching Severus.

"One of the times he'd laced my tea he convinced me to swear a magical oath to become a Dark Lord after him. I decided that being a Dark Lord once a year was a nice way to honour his memory, something that reminded everyone of him without actually hurting anyone." A mischievous look entered the green eyes. "It's been rather fun."

He looked at Dumbledore squarely.

"As you said, Albus, I would never do anything to hurt anyone, and I did not ever allow my friendship with Voldemort to get in the way of that."

Harry took a gulp of tea, Albus watching him thoughtfully.

"Very good," he said. His eyes began twinkling again.

"You know, Harry, I myself was quite a prankster in my youth…"

McGonagall watching in disbelief as the two of them began a discussion of pranks, twinkling merrily at each other like a pair of mismatched twins. Snape simply wore a look of sour resignation.

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

Hermione huffed as Harry entered the room.

"What took you so long?" she demanded. She noticed that his eyes were twinkling. Uh-oh.

"I was talking to Albus," he said cheerfully. "Ron, did you know that in his third year he enlisted the help of the house elves to tamper with all the food that appeared at the Gryffindor table, so that when they ate it they simultaneously sprouted a pair of enormous floppy donkey ears?"

Ron and Neville roared with laughter. Ginny laughed as well. Hermione frowned, but Harry could see the amusement in her eyes.

"Their hearing must have greatly improved," Luna observed dreamily. "Having big ears like that must have allowed them to take in sound with a lot more precision."

"In that case, Ron must have _brilliant_ hearing," Ginny noted.

"Oi!"

Even Hermione joined in the laughter this time. Ron rolled his eyes and tried not to grin.

"Anyway," Harry gestured for them to pay attention," the mention of house elves got me thinking." His eyes were positively sparkling now. "The house elves have been subjected to abuse and contempt for so long now. Isn't it about time they made a stand?" He raised his voice. "Dobby!"

With a pop the house elf appeared, wearing an oversized fedora and a pair of mismatched socks, one of them 'My Little Pony' brand, the other decorated by Superman. Harry was fond of the little elf and brought him presents whenever he visited a department store.

"Yes My Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby cried happily. Harry smiled at him conspirationally.

"Dobby, we wondered if you and the Hogwarts elves would like to help us with something…"

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

The second anniversary of Voldemort's death dawned warm and clear. Things were quite normal until ten o'clock sharp, when they took a sudden unexpected turn. A company of about forty house elves poured into the Ministry Atrium, screaming "Revolution!" and wielding miniature pitchforks and torches. They were led by an elf in full military fatigues, complete with WWI-era helmet. Before anyone quite knew how to react the elves were rampaging through every corner of the Ministry yelling "Viva le Revolution! or screaming "Liberte! Egalite! Fraternite!" in slightly spooky chorus. There was a short battle when the elves reached the Auror department – no one there had forgotten last year's fiasco – until with a shout of "RETREAT!" from their leader, every house elf in the building abruptly vanished with a loud 'pop.' It was only as the shell-shocked Ministry employees were cleaning up the mess that they noticed the many calling-cards that the elves had dropped, each and every one of them from Veridans Lucis. No one ever discovered where the revolting house elves came from, although several Hogwarts students reported having seen an elf in muggle military clothing working in the school kitchens late that afternoon. No one ever bothered to take a closer looked at the shiny medallion pinned to Dobby's sweater afterwards; if they had done so they would have seen that it read

GENERAL DOBBY

LEADER OF THE HOUSE ELF REVOLT.

-

The Minister for Magic, Law Enforcement, and several department heads convened in an emergency meeting to discuss the Dark Lord's latest prank. His return dismayed them all immensely.

"You people should arrest him!" Fudge cried, levelling an accusing finger at Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, and the senor Aurors that had accompanied her. "How you can allow vagabonds like that to…"

"If we had the slightest idea how to arrest him," Amelia interrupted tartly, "I assure you that we would! However as he is rarely seen and then only for a short time, is an expert dueller and most importantly is always disguised, such a task is rather difficult! If you have any suggestions on how we may accomplish it, I could welcome them!"

"It's not _my_ job to work out how to arrest him!" Fudge blustered. "I don't care how you do it, just do it!"

The meeting went downhill from there. When there was finally a gap in the bickering and blame-shifting, Amelia suggested contacting one of Britain's most respected wizards – Albus Dumbledore. Several minutes later Fudge and the twelve others trooped through the fire into the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, drinking tea, Harry Potter across from him. Clearly, the two of them had been enjoying a rather interesting conversation – they were both looking bright-eyed and amused – but as the Ministry personnel entered turned towards the guests. Amelia blinked. Deep blue eyes and brilliant green ones continued to twinkle in unison. Amelia wondered briefly if Potter had was undertaking an apprenticeship in Dumbledoreism. She chided herself; perhaps it was simply that being a Dark Lord Vanquisher took a certain character type. All the same, the likeness between the headmaster and the D.A.D.A. teacher was startling.

"Cornelius, Amelia," Dumbledore's voice was perfectly friendly, "what can I do for you?"

"If it's a private matter…" and Potter began to rise form his chair. Amelia waved him back into it.

"No, no. As a matter of fact we may be able to use your help too, Mr Potter. It's about this new Dark Lord."

Instantly Potter's eyes were alight with laughter. Dumbledore was clearly trying to hide his own amusement. Amelia knew immediately that they two men knew more about the Dark Lord situation than they were letting on.

Cornelius, as usual, misinterpreted their reaction. He puffed out his chest angrily.

"This is no laughing matter! It's a terrible insult to all of wizardkind and to the Ministry in particular!"

Albus and Harry spent several minutes placating him before explaining regretfully that neither had the slightest idea about how to go about capturing Veridans Lucis, but that if any occurred to them they would owl hi mat once.

After the Ministry people left, Harry and Albus glanced at each other before bursting into laughter.

-

The next day's prank was rather more visible than usual: unlike the others it was executed in the muggle world. Overnight, posters featuring prominent British witches and wizards had been pasted all around London, all paired with absurd or insulting captions. A photograph of Lucius Malfoy was used in an advertisement for men's hair products; Cornelius Fudge was the face of a libido-boosting 'medication'. Gilderoy Lockhart beamed his approval of Bright Whites™ teeth-whitening toothpaste. The most shocking of all, however, was an appeal from a charity that provided plastic surgery for underprivileged people with physical deformities. Shamelessly displayed in the middle of the poster was a picture of a slumbering Voldemort, deathly pale and noseless, mouth open in a silent snore. By midday countless muggleborns had brought copies into the Ministry for their perusal. Somehow Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had obtained a copy of each advertisement and proudly glued them to the inside of the shop windows. Two of the posters hadn't yet been found elsewhere: one of Undersecretary Umbridge (as the 'before' picture in an advertisement for a weight loss program) and one of Harry Potter (looking bashful as a client for a match-making firm).

Each was identifiable as the work of Veridans Lucis; above the name 'Serpens Publishing', the company logo was the now well-known snake symbol.

-

Harry Potter visited the Weasley twins late that afternoon, looking pale and tired. He frowned at the sight of his photograph in the window.

"Where did that come from?" he demanded as he entered the shop. The twins instantly knew what he meant. They grinned.

"Ginny sent it," they chorused.

"The others"

"– thought it was about time"

"– to target you"

"– to avert suspicion"

" – and Ginny knew we'd enjoy it," they finished together. Harry rubbed at his eyes and temples in a resigned fashion.

"What's wrong, Harry "

"– late night last night?"

Harry glared at the snickering twins.

"Oi, you want to be next?"

"Wouldn't mind," Fred said equably.

"Be good for business," George added.

"Interesting tale at parties, too."

"But don't worry," George had noticed the menace on their friend's face, "we've got your stuff out the back."

"Good."

The twins bustled through a door and shortly appeared with a large box that had been firmly taped shut.

"I like the house elf revolt, by the way," Fred said as he dumped the box in Harry's arms.

"We're commemorating it with limited 'House Elf Army' statues," agreed George.

"Any resemblance to Dobby is purely coincidental," his brother added innocently.

Harry snorted.

"Sure it is." He grinned in farewell. "Send me and order form when you start producing them."

"Will do," the twins chorused. Harry smiled and left the store.

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

Tuesday, Veridans Lucis decided to strike in person. Dressed in green battle robes with a golden cloak and mask, he fell out of the Leaky Cauldron fireplace, got to his feet and stormed into Diagon Alley, shortly followed by three minions carrying large crates. Just as people began to react, the Dark Lord paused at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The crates were placed on the ground and simultaneously all three lids were removed. Almost instantly a wave of nifflers came tumbling out, paused momentarily to reorient themselves, and promptly poured into Knockturn Alley. With a shouted incantation Veridans Lucis shot his symbol into the sky before all four fugitives disApparated with a crack.

It took several hours to round up all the Nifflers, during which time a great deal of merchandise was damaged, some of which proved to be illicit. Several arrests were made, and business was sufficiently disrupted that a number of stores closed for the remainder of the day.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, meanwhile, won three galleons in the Auror's betting pool.

-

The next day, Lucius Malfoy's highly publicised trial finally took place, but was somewhat interrupted when during witness testimony three cloaked figures in the spectator section threw off their cloaks and began ranting about blood purity – each one of them with the face and voice of Lucius Malfoy himself. It soon degenerated into an argument over which one of them was the real Malfoy.

"What would you know about blood purity, you impostor!"

"I? I am Lucius Antoninus Tiberius Malfoy, you inferior excuse of a Mudblood!"

"Lies!"

The Lucius Malfoy on trial became so incensed that he too joined in, accusing the other three of mocking him, and in his deteriorated state began raving about how the Dark Lord would punish them. This turned into a deranged monologue about 'the contemptible Potter boy' and how he would be killed.

As the Aurors tried to arrest them one of the Malfoys shot a green spell at the ceiling that exploded into the words,

'BRAINWAVE OF QUEENIE AND SPITFIRE – MINIONS OF THE DARK LORD VERIDANS LUCIS'.

All three impostors pulled a galleon out of their pockets and yelled,

"Portkey away!"

With a distant 'boom' of complaint from the wards, they vanished.

In the end Malfoy was found guilty and sentenced permanently to Azkaban prison.

Oddly, Professor Potter never bothered to ask Ginny Weasley why she hadn't attended his class that day.

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

Thursday, the Aurors were surprised to find Azkaban prison's surrounding sea covered by water-lilies as they arrived to take the dawn shift, credit for the plants claimed by Veridans Lucis minion Bowtruckle in shimmering green letters.

Outside the prison gates a statue of a large, bearlike dog now stood. At its feet was a small plaque.

VERIDANS LUCIS AND MINIONS KILROY, BLUDGER, BOWTRUCKLE, SPITFIRE AND QUEENIE

HONOUR THE MEMORY OF BELOVED FRIEND

PADFOOT

WRONGFULLY IMPRISONED IN AZKABAN FOR TWELVE YEARS.

In front of the plaque was a small bouquet of water-lilies. Despite all attempts to remove them form the island, the statue and the plaque remained.

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

Friday evening, Professor Sprout was mildly surprised to hear voices in the corridor after curfew. She was even more surprised to see a Hufflepuff prefect arguing with a group of her first years who had apparently decided to camp out for the night in the middle of the corridor.

"What on Earth is going on here?" she asked.

The prefect, Marianne Tarrant, straightened.

"They're too scared to go into their dormitory," she explained.

"The Death of Rats is in there!" exclaimed Annabel Zabini.

Professor Sprout blinked.

"The what?"

"The Death of Rats," Marianne confirmed, "I went in and checked, there's this little rat skeleton in a robe running around in there. It's even got this little scythe."

"A scythe," Professor Sprout repeated.

"Yeah. I told them it's not going to hurt them, well I mean they're not rats, are they? but they won't go back in.

Professor Sprout sighed.

"Show me," she said.

Marianne led the way, followed by her Head of House and a gaggle of Hufflepuff girls.

She stopped.

"See?" she pointed.

Sure enough, a black-robed rat skeleton wielding a scythe was there, jumping up and down on one of the girl's beds. Apparently it was enjoying itself.

The professor stared.

"Good Lord!"

Professor Sprout examined the skeleton.

"Stop that." The skeleton hung its head and stood still so that she could get a good look at it.

"It seems to be a golem," Professor Sprout stared some more, "but who'd go to all the trouble just to make one out of a rodent skeleton?"

The skeletal rat held up a front toe in a 'hold on' gesture, and reached back into its hood to pull out a small sign.

'I 3 Veridans Lucis,' read the sign.

"Of course," Professor Sprout muttered. "Who else?"

The rat skeleton held up a toe again and turned the sign over.

'Spells researched and designed by Queenie,' the back of the sign read.

Professor Sprout closed her eyes to gather calm. The Death of Rats ambled amicably over to a mousetrap in the corner of the room (It was a very humane mousetrap; the Hufflepuff girls might be afraid of mice, but they were soft-hearted, especially when it came to small furry animals) and waited expectantly.

Professor Sprout opened her eyes and looked at the rodent skeleton.

"Come over here," she said.

The skeletal rat pointed from the trap to its scythe protestingly.

"I don't care."

SQUEAK. It trudged over sulkily.

"Now look," Professor Sprout told it, "personally I don't care what you do as long as you don't harm the students, but you can't stay in the Hufflepuff quarters."

The Death of Rats seemed the sigh, but trudged out.

The first year Hufflepuff girls finally went to bed.

-

The next morning everyone was startled to see Luna Lovegood come to breakfast with a skeletal robed rat carrying a scythe standing on her shoulder.

"Lovegood," Bellevue stared, "why is there a rat skeleton on your shoulder?"

Luna smiled absently.

"I found him trying to get at the cheese I keep in my trunk during the night," she explained. "I thought he was cute."

"Uh," was the unsure reply. The animated bones of a dead rat. Cute. Right.

**o0o o0o o0o o0o**

The next day's prank also occurred at Hogwarts. This time it targeted a specific person: Harry Potter.

Having failed to turn up for breakfast, Professor Potter turned up for lunch – with silver and green hair and wearing green robes and a long-suffering expression. He flopped into the chair next to Snape's with a resigned air.

Snape blinked.

"Potter?" he asked cautiously, thinking that he knew what this was about, but wanting to check.

Harry turned to him with a scowl.

"Slytherins rule," he said.

"What?"

"Harry, are you quite alright?" McGonagall asked in concern.

"Slytherins rule," Harry told her sadly.

"Ah." Dumbledore eyed him with amusement. "I gather that Veridans Lucis has struck again?"

"Veridans Lucis," Harry agreed. "Slytherins rule." He looked woebegone.

"Really, Potter?" Snape smirked.

"Slytherins rule!" Harry snapped.

"Is there anything else you can say?" Sinistra inquired.

Harry sighed.

"Slytherins rule, Veridans Lucis, Gryffindors are imbeciles, Voldemort."

Some people jumped at the last one.

"And your answer varies depending on the question?" Snape remarked.

"Slytherins rule," Harry agreed dolefully.

"Are you limited to English?" someone at the other end of the table called out shrewdly.

Harry's expression immediately brightened.

"_SSsssSssSnnss,_" he replied brightly. Next to him Snape jerked at the sudden sound of Parseltongue as everyone else jumped.

"Stop that, Potter!" he barked.

Harry laughed in a little hissing snicker.

The rest of the table shifted uncomfortably at the snakelike sound.

"Well," Dumbledore observed, "if today were not a weekend then the students would certainly have some interesting Defence classes today."

When no one else was looking, Harry winked at him. Dumbledore twinkled back.

Snape caught it.

"Fools and madmen," he muttered. Harry broke into hissing laughter.

"Potter!"

**END PART TWO**

**Omake (the 'names' scene):**

Harry grinned and unrolled his piece of parchment.

"The council of Marauders, Marauders heirs and twins Weasley have hereby decided on the names to be bestowed upon the minions of the latest Dark Lord," he announced.

"Ronald Weasley, we hereby bestow upon you the name Bludger, for having approximately the same level of tact and delicacy."

There were snickers of appreciation from Harry's audience, but Ron bowed, grinning.

"Neville Longbottom, for your affinity with plants, we hereby dub thee, Bowtruckle!"

Everyone laughed. Neville was, indeed, protective of his plants.

"Luna Loveood, for knowing what's going on before any of us do, we hereby name thee Kilroy, the one who's always there before everyone else gets there!"

Predictably, only Luna and Hermione seemed to have any idea what Harry was taking about. He smirked and read on.

"Ginevra Weasley" – she grimaced – "at the suggestion of twins Weasley we hereby bestow upon you the moniker Spitfire, having rejected Hellcat, Devil Spawn, and a number of others that were even more uncomplimentary. Be grateful."

Again there was a great deal of laughter. Ginny muttered darkly about her brothers.

"And last, but certainly not least, we come to the final minion. Hermione Granger, we dub thee Queenie, in honour of you Animagus form of an Egyptian Mau, the queen of all cats!"

Amid the new giggles, Harry sobered a little.

"And now, may I present your new leader, the Dark Lord of Chaos, Veridans Lucis, or in English –"

"Green light," Hermione said softly.

"Named for that which determined said Dark Lord's path in life," Harry finished.

"And a right weird life it is, mate," Ron agreed.

Ginny smacked him, but Harry was back to grinning.

"So, my misguided and maleficent minions, what shall we do first?"

**end omake**

**--**

**Author's Note:**

**Ten pages! Not bad, eh?**

**I've seen the idea for the house elf revolution somewhere else, I know, but I had a go at it anyway. The rest of it was more or less original, except, of course, for the Death of Rats, who is a Te****rry Pratchett creation. I thought the Potterverse version somewhat nifty, though. And for anyone wondering, Harry wasn't really under a speech spell at the end: he was faking it as part of the prank.**

**And eventually, on to part three!**


End file.
